Hi, I really like your writing (◍•ᴗ•◍)✧*。
I was wondering if I could request an NSFW Makoto Naegi x insecure fem reader
And you can add as much fluff as you want ♡
⋆˙⟡.ೃ࿔⋆ yaaay another makoto fic, i like when protags get attention especially because i usually ignore them when i play games and self-insert lol
The bedroom lamp casts a warm honey glow across the sheets. You’re already under the covers, knees pulled toward your chest even though it’s just the two of you. Makoto stands at the foot of the bed in nothing but his loose plaid sleep pants, hair still a little damp from the shower, looking at you like you hung every star he’s ever wished on.
"You’re doing the thing again," he says gently, smile small and knowing.
"Hiding." He climbs onto the mattress, slow so the bed hardly dips. "You always pull your knees up when you start thinking too hard about how you look."
Heat crawls up your neck. You open your mouth to deny it—then close it again because he’s right and he always notices.
Makoto settles beside you, propped on one elbow. His free hand reaches out and brushes your hair behind your ear, thumb lingering on your cheekbone.
"I like every single part of you," he says, voice quiet but certain, the same tone he uses when he’s stating something obvious like "the sky is blue". "Every part. Can I show you?"
Your throat feels tight. You manage a tiny nod.
He starts with your forehead—soft kiss. Then the bridge of your nose. The apple of one cheek, then the other. The corner of your mouth. Each press of his lips is deliberate, like he’s mapping every inch he’s allowed to adore tonight. When he finally kisses you properly, it’s slow and deep and tastes faintly of mint toothpaste; his tongue brushes yours like he’s asking permission even though you’ve done this a hundred times before.
His palm slides under the hem of your oversized sleep shirt—his shirt, technically, one you stole months ago—and rests warm and steady against your bare stomach.
"Is this okay?" he murmurs against your lips.
You nod again, faster this time.
He pushes the fabric up inch by inch, exposing your ribs, the soft curve under your breasts, then higher until cool air kisses your skin. You fight the instinct to cover yourself; Makoto must feel the tension because he pulls back just enough to look at you.
"God," he breathes, eyes wide and reverent. "You’re so beautiful it makes my chest hurt sometimes."
He lowers his head and kisses the space right between your breasts, then trails lower, open-mouthed and lingering, across the gentle swell of your stomach. Every time you tense he pauses, waits for you to relax, then continues. When his lips brush the sensitive skin just above your navel you let out a shaky laugh that turns into a whimper.
"Ticklish?" he asks, grinning against your skin.
He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pauses again, waiting. You lift your hips without being asked. The fabric slides down your thighs, over your knees, off your ankles. Then you’re bare from the waist down and he’s looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again.
Makoto settles between your legs, shoulders nudging your thighs farther apart. He doesn’t dive in; instead he presses slow, wet kisses to the crease where thigh meets hip, first one side, then the other, deliberately avoiding where you’re already aching for him.
"Makoto…" Your voice cracks.
"I know." He finally looks up, eyes soft and dark at the same time. "I’ve got you."
His tongue flicks out—once, light, testing—then he groans low in his throat like he’s the one being spoiled. He licks a slow stripe up your center, savoring, and your hips jerk before you can stop them. He bands one arm across your hips, holding you gently in place, and goes back to work with patient, loving strokes. Every swirl of his tongue, every soft suck against your clit, comes with a little hum of contentment, like he could do this for hours and be perfectly happy.
When your thighs start trembling he pulls back just long enough to whisper.
"You taste so good. Did you know that? I think about it all the time."
You cover your face with both hands. He laughs softly and kisses the inside of your thighs until you lower them again.
"Look at me," he says. "Please?"
You do. His chin is shiny, cheeks flushed, hair falling into his eyes. He looks wrecked in the sweetest way.
"I want to feel you come on my tongue first," he tells you, honest and a little shy even now. "Then I want to be inside you. Is that okay?"
You nod so fast it makes him chuckle.
He doesn’t make you wait long. Two fingers slide inside you, curling just right, while his mouth returns to your clit with focused little sucks. The combination undoes you embarrassingly fast; pleasure coils tight, snaps, and you arch off the mattress with a broken cry of his name. He doesn’t stop until you’re twitching, oversensitive, weakly pushing at his hair.
When he finally lifts his head he’s smiling like he just won the lottery.
"C’mere," he murmurs, crawling up your body.
You feel the hard length of him against your thigh through his sleep pants. It's hot, insistent, and already leaking. He kisses you deep so you can taste yourself on his tongue, and somehow that makes you clench around nothing all over again.
"Can I…?" He rocks his hips once, asking.
He shoves his pants down just enough. His cock springs free—thick enough to make your mouth water, flushed dark at the tip, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the slit. He wraps his hand around the base and drags the head through your folds, coating himself in your slick.
The first press of him at your entrance makes you both gasp.
"Slow," he breathes, more to himself than you. "Gonna go slow."
He pushes in one careful inch. Your walls flutter around the stretch; he’s hot, hard, and so thick you feel every vein as he sinks deeper. Halfway in he pauses, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.
"You feel…" He shudders. "So perfect. Like you were made just for me."
He keeps talking in soft, rambling, sweet nothings while he rocks the rest of the way inside.
"You’re so warm…so wet…damn, I can feel you squeezing me every time I move…you don’t even know how good you feel…I love you, I love you so much…"
When he’s finally buried to the hilt he stills, letting you adjust, letting you feel the way he throbs inside you. Your legs wrap around his waist on instinct, pulling him closer, deeper.
He starts moving—slow, rolling thrusts that drag against every sensitive place inside you. Every time he bottoms out he grinds his pelvis against your clit, little circles that make sparks shoot up your spine.
"Look at me," he whispers again, voice wrecked. "I Wanna see your face when you come this time."
You lock eyes with him. His pupils are blown wide, cheeks flushed, lips parted. Every few thrusts he dips down to kiss you—messy, desperate, but still so gentle.
One hand finds yours, laces your fingers together, presses your joined hands into the pillow beside your head. The other slips between your bodies so his thumb can circle your clit in time with his thrusts.
"Me too." He presses his forehead to yours again. "Come with me, okay? Please—wanna feel you come around my cock."
The words, the steady drag of him inside you, the perfect pressure of his thumb—it all crashes together at once. You clench hard, crying out his name as your orgasm rips through you, wave after wave. Makoto groans brokenly, thrusts turning erratic, and then he’s pulsing inside you—hot, deep spurts that make you shiver as he fills you up.
He collapses half on top of you, careful not to crush you, panting against your neck.
For a long minute neither of you speaks. Just breathing. His heartbeat thumping against your chest. His softening cock still inside you, warm and intimate.
Eventually he lifts his head, brushes damp hair off your forehead, and smiles softly, stupidly in love.
"You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen," he murmurs. "And you’re mine. And I’m never gonna stop reminding you."
You feel tears prick your eyes—overwhelmed and happy tears.
He kisses the corner of your eye where the first tear slips free.
"Stay like this a little longer?" you whisper.
He nods, already settling more comfortably on top of you, still buried inside, arms wrapping around you like he never plans to let go.
"As long as you want. Forever, if you let me."
